Scars That Remain
by Snow White in Wonderland
Summary: "There were just some scars that remained, no matter how much time might pass." Even after all this time, Ginny Weasley had never truly gotten over Tom Riddle. In fact, she missed him. But that was her little secret. One-shot.


So I was reading a Ginny/Tom fic, and this idea came to me. This is my first one-shot in the Harry Potter world, so I hope it's okay, and I hope you people, my reviewers, enjoy it.

As this is the first story I've posted on since my grandma died last week, I felt it was only right if I dedicate this story to her, to her memory.

If any readers from my story Crucio are here, then I have a good news. I have started work on the third chapter, and it'll hopefully be up this week. I just haven't updated because of my grandma dying and all, but no worries. There'll be a chapter up very soon.

I didn't know how to end this at first, as it was way, way to short, but then inspiration hit me and _bam! _The perfect ending came to mind.

Oh, and sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes. I was half awake when I typed this and proofread it.

Summery: No matter how many years passed, Ginny Weasley never truly got over Tom Riddle, though she put up a good act. She had to, she could never let on how much she missed him. No, the scar that remained would always be her secret.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything relating to the world of Harry Potter. Yes, I know. Sad thing, isn't it? Wouldn't we all love to own Harry Potter?**

Nobody understood. _Nobody. _They didn't understand why she hadn't thrown away the diary when she realized it was cursed. They didn't understand why she had cherished that diary, why it had been her most prized possession in her first year.

Well, of course they didn't understand. How could they, when they had never let her explain? You can't understand what you don't know, after all. They just thought, _Oh, poor Ginny, she's been through such a horrible ordeal, _and gave her some hot chocolate, as if that would make it all better. As if that would wash away her memories of _him._

She'd been naive, even she would admit that. She had trusted that little black book so blindly, it had almost killed her. Looking back on it, she couldn't believe she'd been so stupid. But she had been lonely, in desperate need for a caring friend. A diary that talked back to her...well, naturally, she saw it as a blessing. Tom was everything she wanted in a friend. He was caring. He was thoughtful. He was considerate. Was it really any wonder that she kept writing to him, even after she realized that it was cursed?

Ginny never told anyone what had happened that night, how Tom had taunted her, her so-called friend suddenly turned into this cruel sadist. As she lay there, slowly losing conscienous, he taunted her with the knowledge that she would have helped with the death of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy she secretly pined over. He told her how he had made a new name for himself, and she remembered thr horror she had felt when he told her that name...Lord Voldemort.

To think she had been conversing with the Dark Lord, Harry Potter's sworn enemy! She was honestly surprised her family hadn't disowned her for doing such a stupid thing, but Dumbledore had made them understand how charming Tom Riddle could be.

However, she didn't think anyone, even Dumbledore, could understand just how charming Tom Riddle was. If they did, they would've done more than simply give her a cup of hot chocolate.

Ginny remembered how she felt when she woke up, and Harry had told her that he had destroyed Tom. She knew he expected her to be glad, and, for the sake of her crush on him, she acted glad, but inside she was dying. _Her _diary, her precious diary, lay on the chamber floor, ink dripping out of the wound inflicted upon it by the Basilisk fang. She felt...broken. That was the real reason behind her tears that night, alongside her fear of being expelled. Her diary had been destroyed. Harry had killed her best friend.

Sometimes, late at night, she would slip out of Gryffindor Tower and creep towards the trophy room, just to see Tom's name on that one trophy, to see the proof that he had actually existed, and he was some cruel, sadistic figment of her imagination. She would stand there for hours, just staring at Tom's trophy, remembering the differant conversations that had occursed between Ginny and Tom, longing for her diary, for Tom's diary. Like she was in a trance of sorts. Finally, after staying there for hours just staring at the trophy, she would turn and head back to Gryffindor Tower to turn in for the night.

Once, just once, while she was beteen classes, she went up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The ghost didn't bother her much, as she was too caught up in her own sorrow, mourning for her own death. Ginny just stood there, staring at the sink, the one with the little snake encarved on it. This was it. This was where she had stood, back when she was eleven, when Tom had possessed her and used her to open the Chamber of Secrets. It wasn't until she realized that she was five minutes late for Potions that she turned and left.

The others were too wrapped up in their own lives to realize the ordeal with Tom Riddle's diary still had an effect on her. No, _Tom _still had an effect on her. She still thought about him on a daily basis, still wondered what Tom would say if she could tell him of her current problems. She still longed to have her diary back in her arms.

At first, Ginny resented Harry for destroying Tom, destroying her best friend. Then she would turn around and chide her, telling herself that she was being stupid. Tom had tried to _kill _her, Harry had saved her. She should resent Tom, not Harry. But she couldn't. She simply couldn't bring herself to resent Tom.

Not that it mattered if she resented him or not. Nothing would've been able to keep the nightmares away.

She had had them nearly every night since Harry had saved her from the chamber. Every single night. And she welcomed them, however much they frightened her, because they were the only way she could see Tom again. Of course, no one knew about these nightmares. She was afraid if she told someone, she would lose Tom for a second time. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she needed Tom.

Her nightmares probably wouldn't have scared anyone else. They probably wouldn't make much sense to anyone else. Every night, Tom would come out of the diary and taunt her mercilessly about all her fears she had confided in him with until she wished him away. And he'd vanished, just as she had wished, and she'd be left holding the diary, still dripping with ink from where Harry had stabbed it. And she'd start to cry, telling Tom she hadn't meant it and to please, please come back. And he wouldn't, he never would, and she'd wake up screaming.

After the first three nights of having this dream, Ginny had learned to cast a silcencing charm on herself before going to bed, lest her nightmares be brought to light and she lost him again.

It had taken Ginny a very long time to brave opening a diary again, but she finally bought one in Diagon Alley and started writing in it. However, she could never shake the overwhelming disappointment she felt when she wrote in and Tom didn't write back.

Finally, she admitted it. She missed Tom.

No one could ever know, of course. They could never know that she missed the very man who had tried to kill her. They could never know her deepest, most darkest secret: she missed Tom Riddle. They could never know about the nightmares she had every night, with Tom Riddle as the could never know about her nighttime wanderings to the trophy room, just to see his name engraved in the gold. They could never know of how she thought of Tom on a daily basis. They could never know of how she longed to have his diary back in her arms. They could never know of how sad she'd been when she first learned that the diary had been destroyed, that Tom had been destroyed. They could never know about the scars that remained.

It would always be her little secret.

* * *

><p>Ginny threw the little black book across the flooding room. Here she was, sixteen, and back in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with Tom Riddle's diary. She had gone through hell and back to get that diary from the Malfoys. When she'd finally recieved it, she had been overjoyed when she had wrote in it and Tom had wrote back.<p>

The bathroom was strangely vivid. She seemed to be taking in every small detail.

"You lied to me!" she shouted, glaring at the book. "You used me! Why, Tom? Why did you do it?"

The little black diary stayed still, unopened. It didn't give her an answer.

"I didn't steal Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak, break into Malfoy Manor and risk explulsion from Hogwarts just so you could use me again!" she shouted. "Why, Tom? _Why?"_

"You foolish girl," said a quiet voice from behind her. Ginny spun around.

There he was, just as she remembered it. Tall...handsome...beautiful brown eyes. She frowned; she remembered him being a lot taller. Of course, she was eleven the first time she saw Tom. She stared into Tom's beautiful brown eyes, thinking of how they would one day turn an ugly, bright, brilliant red, the eyes of Lord Voldemort. She shuddered invulontarily.

"No," she whispered. "This isn't real. You can't be here."

"But I am," he said, smiling cruely, stepping closer towards her. "All because you, dear Ginerva, was foolish enough to steal back the diary."

"Why?" Ginny asked. "Why did you trick me?"

"Why not?" he replied. "It was so easy, you know. You're just as naive as you were when you were eleven." He took another step towards her. "Foolish little girl, so wrapped up in her own selfish wants she doesn't even consider the price." He laughed darkly. "You really are stupid, Ginny Weasley."

"No!" she shrieked. "No! Stop it, Tom, stop it!"

He smirked. "Why would I? I'm having fun taunting you, actually. I think I'll keep at it."

"No!" she shouted. Where was Moaning Myrtle when she needed her? Not that the ghost would really do Ginny any good, but it was better than be alone with...him. "No, stop!"

"No, I don't think so," Tom said calmly. "Foolish little girl, selfish and stupid." His dark eyes glinted menacingly.

"No!" she shouted. "No! I'm not stupid! You're lying! YOU'RE LYING!"

"Come now, Ginerva, we both know I'm not," Tom said, still smiling in that sick, twisted way. "Stupid, selfish little girl," he taunted sadistically.

"NO!" she yelled. "No! Why can't you just leave me alone, Tom?" Tears were streaming down her face steadily by now. "I just want you to leave me alone!"

To her great surprise, Tom disappeared.

She blinked, staring at the spot where he'd been. "T-Tom?" she asked warily.

Nothing. No answer. Tom was gone.

Instead of relief, she was seized with panic. "No," she whispered, running to the diary and dropping to the floor next to it. She seized the little black book and clutched it tightly. "No, no, no. Tom, please come back. Please, I didn't mean it. Please, Tom. Please come back, please. I didn't mean what I said, I don't want you to leave me alone. Please come back," she sobbed, clutching the diary close to her chest and wishing with every fiber of her being that Tom would come back.

But he didn't. He stayed gone.

She sobbed even harder. "No, no, no, no. Please come back, Tom. Please, please, _please. _I...I need you to come back, Tom. Please come back, please..."

But no matter how hard she sobbed, or how much she begged, Tom didn't come back.

She stared at the diary in her hands. It was dripping with ink, as if the wound from the Basilisk fang was still fresh. Her hands were covered with ink. She dropped the diary, and it fell to the floor with a thud. She stared at her ink-covered hands, shaking from head to toe, trying to grasp the realization that Tom wasn't coming back.

The ink began to drip from her hands. _Drip, drip, drip._

"He isn't coming back," she muttered, still shocked from the realization.

_Drip, drip, drip._

"He's left me for good," she whispered.

_Drip, drip, drip._

"No, it can't be," she muttered.

_Drip, drip, drip._

"Tom?" she called out to the empty bathroom, one last hope swelling inside her. "Please answer me?"

_Drip, drip, drip._

There was no answer. No sound.

_Drip, drip, drip._

"He's not coming back," she stated. "No! NO!" As she realized that Tom Riddle had left her for good, she let out a bloodcurdling scream-the scream of insanity.

Ginny Weasley woke up with a start, panting. A worried face stood over her. Hermione, who was staying in Ginny's room before the trio left the Burrow for whatever mission Dumbledore had gave them. "Ginny?" Hermione asked, sounding concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ginny lied, though she was still shaking like a lead. "Why?"

"You were screaming in your sleep," Hermione told her.

Ginny bit back a curse. She had forgotten to cast a silencing charm on her the night before. "Just a bad dream," she told Hermione, though she didn't go into details.

Hermione bit her lip, looking very much like a concerned mother. "Want to talk about it?"

Ginny shook her head slowly. "No thanks. I can't really remember that much about it, anyways," she said, lying again.

"Okay," Hermione said. "But remember, if you ever want to talk about anything, my ears are always opened."

Ginny forced a smile. "Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem," Hermione said, heading back to her bed. "Go back to sleep, Gin."

"I will," Ginny said. "Good night."

"Good night."

Even long after Hermione had put out the light, Ginny lay awake, afraid to go back to sleep, afraid she might dream of Tom again. She didn't want to have that nightmare again, but...she did want to see his face once more. She frowned into the darkness. What was wrong with her?

Immediantly, the answer came. She missed him.

What a bitter thought, to miss the man who tried to kill her. She must be insane to even think of missing him, but she knew it was true. She, though it killed her to admit it, missed Tom Riddle, missed their chats in the diary, missed his encouraging words. She missed the image of his face, even if she had seen it only one, in the chamber, right before she fell unconscious. That was why she so welcomed her dreams, though they tortured her so. She missed him.

Ginny stifled a yawn and turned towards her wall. Tom was out of her life now. She couldn't think of it. She couldn't _afford _to think of him, not now, not while they were at war with his future self.

Every night, after she had a nightmare, she swore to forget him. But she couldn't. She couldn't forget him, no matter how hard she might try.

There were just some scars that remained, no matter how much time might pass.

She rolled over, and fell asleep again.

_**I hadn't originally planned on adding the dream and the chat with Hermione, but after typing it up, I realized it was too short, so I just let my muse speak for itself, and I think this was a nice touch to the story, don't you think?**_

_**If you want to look at my other Harry Potter story, Crucio, please be my guest. I'd appriciate it. I'm currently working on the third chapter right now. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**_

_**Again, sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes. I didn't get much sleep the night before writing this, so I wasn't entirely alert. I have proofread it, of course, but I still may have missed some mistakes. So sorry about that.**_

_**I don't have too much to say here, other than, of course, to remind you to review, which I have just done, so bye!**_


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